


Wake Up, Sunshine

by scream_tears



Category: All Time Low (Band)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:08:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29413170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scream_tears/pseuds/scream_tears
Summary: A series of one-shot based on the songs on All Time Low's latest album, Wake Up, Sunshine
Relationships: Alex Gaskarth/Original Female Character(s)





	1. Favourite Place

I squinted my eyes, watching my laptop screen as it lit up with a notification, the quiet humming of it booting itself up following suit. I had been up late finishing a report for work, which supposedly led to me falling asleep with the device.

With a groan of discomfort, I pushed myself up against the pillows, pulling my laptop onto my lap. I cringed at the impact of cold metal against my naked skin, sluggishly typing my password.

It didn’t take me long to locate the source of the alert. In fact, it was the release radar on Spotify. “Check out Favourite Place by All Time Low,” I mumbled, opening the link to the song. The numbers lyrics illuminated my screen, changing every couple of seconds. “Can we close the space between us now? It’s the distance we don’t need,” Alex sang, serenaded by the various instruments. “Yeah, you’re everything I love about the things I hate in me.”

“You're everything I love about the things I hate in me,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine. His breath was cold against my cheek, his hands holding me close. Each movement was desperate. Desperate but futile.

“Stop using those lines on me, Alex!” I shouted, pulling away, “I’m not about to fall for your sappy lines.”

“Babe, please,” he pleaded solemnly. His lips curled into a frown as he stared back at me dejectedly, “you’re my favourite place.”

“I can’t do this, Alex,” I shook my head, falling down on the bed. He followed suit, sitting beside me.

“Let me be your escape,” he sighed, feigning a smile.

“You’re the perfect escape,” I started, to which he perked up, “but you can’t be mine.”

“Please.”

“I can’t do this, Alex,” I repeated, standing up from the bed. I pressed my hands to his face, pushing a final kiss to his lips before leaving. I knew the consequences of my actions, but it had to be done. He was leaving for tour and I was moving out to LA for a photographer gig. No matter what we did, the distance would be too great.

“‘Cause I’m not too far, and you’re my favourite place,” Alex hummed, the music cutting out behind him. The song ended, along with my train of thought. Instead, I turned my attention to my buzzing phone; Alex was calling.

I swiped right, pushing the cold screen to my ear. He was quiet at first, his heavy breathing engulfing me.

“The song’s about you,” he finally spoke up, sighing. I could almost picture him rubbing the back of his neck as he frowned.

“I figured as much,” I replied dismally.

“I miss you.”

“You can’t write songs about me, Alex,” I confessed solemnly. “We can’t do this again.”  
“Why won’t you give this a try?” He argued bitterly, raising his voice. I thought about his empty room; his bothered voice echoing through his emptier house. “What are you so afraid of?”

“Come on, Alex, be realistic here. We live twenty five hundred miles away from each other,” I affirmed, pushing my laptop from my lap as I climbed from the bed. I stumbled through my dark apartment, finding myself in the kitchen.

“Where are you?” He asked as I pulled myself onto the kitchen counter, waiting for the pot of coffee to heat.

“I’m in my kitchen,” I replied cautiously, questioning his motive here. He didn’t know where I lived, and even if he did I was still thousands of miles away.

“Go outside,” he added promptly, the sounds of him shuffling around his bedroom ensuing.

“You do realise there’s a time difference, right?” I questioned, furrowing my brows, “it’s two in the morning.”

“You have a rooftop balcony, you’ll be fine,” he defended, to which I could almost picture him pouting. I sighed, still unsure as to where he was going with this. “Please. For me?”

“Fine,” I agreed sourly. As much admiration I had for Alex, I was in no way excited for the freezing cold night. I grabbed my coat from the closet beside the bathroom, tugging my boots over my feet before making my way outside. The cold breeze brushed against my hand as I pressed my phone tightly to my cheek. Alex was also panting through the speakers, suggesting he too was making his way outside. “I’m outside.”

“So I just realised how little stars are actually visible in Baltimore,” Alex sighed, still attempting to catch his breath from the early morning exercise. “Okay, I’m gonna pretend.”

“Okay,” I replied, attempting to hide the smirk in my tone. “Your point?”

“Right, yes,” he began, fumbling with the phone in his hand as he prepared himself for what came next, “we’re in different places but we’re staring at the same stars.”  
“Hypothetically,” I added with a nod, knowing too well he couldn’t see me.

“Hypothetically,” he replied, confirming my response.

“And your point?”

“No matter where we are in the world we’ll always be connected in some way or another,” he explained, clearly pleased with himself, “don’t give up on us because of distance.”

“You’re doing it again…” I mumbled, frowning. He waited patiently, insisting I carried on. “You’re trying to win me over with those sappy song lyrics.”

“I’m a sucker for the cheese, what can I say?” He laughed, choosing banter as a way to soothe me. I shook my head, and he knew it. “Come on Ki, give me a chance.”

“Alex, please, I don’t-”  
“Don’t”, he cut me off dismally, “don’t break me in half again.”

“Say I did give this a chance, how would it work? Our schedules clashed as it was in Baltimore, now there’s an added time difference,” I affirmed severely. Alex sighed, most likely having hoped to ignore this part of the conversation until at least six am.

“We fit time for each other into our schedules,” he suggested promptly.

I nodded, “okay, so I fit in an hour a day to call you, do you really think that’s enough to keep this relationship afloat?”

“Well, we’ll visit each other too. I’ll visit whenever I get a free week, and you can come here for holidays,” he assured matter-of-factly. At least he was trying, right?

“I’m not sure, Alex. My new job has me on a busy schedule,” I added, disdain apparent in my tone. “This is why we broke it off in the first place.”

“This is why you broke it off,” he retorted bitterly. I frowned, taken aback by his response.

“You were the one who pushed me to follow my dream,” I seethed, “you have no right to blame me for this.”

“I didn’t expect you to leave the city!” He shouted down the phone, shakily. I breathed deeply, listening as he apologised to the woman who lived across from him, from us. It was still my home, no matter how troublesome the situation seemed.

“Okay,” I started, “I’ve made up my mind.”

“Go on,” he insisted, curious as to my sleep-induced decision.

“We give it a try. The long distance thing,” I declared earnestly, “but if either of us have even the slightest inclination that it’s not working, we talk about it.”

“Deal,” he affirmed eagerly, “hundred percent.”

“Are there any more songs I need to know about?” I questioned impishly.

Alex feigned inquest before replying, “yes.”

“How many?” I asked, unsure as to whether I truly wanted to know the answer.

“Three, maybe?”

“Only three?” I asked, laughing. I liked to think I knew Alex better than most, meaning I also knew that by three he meant six. And by six he meant the vast majority of the album. These next few days were going to be interesting, to say the least.


	2. Pretty Venom

“Hey Google,” I called, skidding into the kitchen as I tied the top buttons on my shirt, “play Pretty Venom by All Time Low.”

The music started, serenading my final steps of getting dressed. I scoured the house for my phone, unsure of where I left it when I passed out on the sofa two hours prior. Alex and I had stayed up talking about the month we had missed for at least three hours, maybe more. Now, it was seven o’clock, my brain was farting, for lack of better words, and I was late for work.

“How you gonna say that?” Alex sang, catching my attention of guard, “take it all back. Why you wanna do me like that?” 

The guilt welled in my stomach as I finally uncovered my phone underneath my boots and coat. I knew my decision had affected Alex, but I didn’t expect him to spell it out so… harshly. I was hoping he had given me the bad song early to get it over and done with, and the others were better. Something I didn’t need was a viral album of all the reasons I’m a bitch. Been there, done that.

I clumsily pulled on my coat, simultaneously pocketing my phone. I downed the last of the coffee, tripling my amount to three mugs this morning alone, before taking my leave. Thankfully the office was a quick jog down the street, so there was no reason to puzzle over the complex system of LA’s public transport. 

“Nikita, finally,” Bobbi exclaimed, running over to me within seconds of walking through the office doors. I pulled my coat off quickly, grabbing the piles of paperwork she was offering before following her through into the office. “So what’s the latest?”

Bobbi was, as you would call, my office bestie. As far as the office was concerned, we were close, therefore our assignments tended to overlap a lot. 

“Two hours of sleep is always memorable,” I laughed, attempting to juggle the stack on my arm as I fumbled for my buzzing phone in my pocket. “Sorry, I have to get this,” I assured, excusing myself from the conversation. I dropped the folders on my desk, pushing my phone to my ear. “Nikita Daly speaking.”

He laughed, “ha, ha, very funny, but I’m not another client.”

“It was worth the try,” I began, “your band pays bucks.”

“Yeah, my bucks,” Alex retorted. I could picture him rolling his eyes, just from his tone alone. 

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” I asked, balancing the device between my shoulder and cheek as I began examining the files. They were a series of folders from different photoshoots. My job was to organize and remove the ‘bad’ ones. You could say this part of the job sparked a few office rivalries. “It is, like, eleven.”

“Eh, I got a pretty good night’s sleep before I called you. You’re the one who should be sleeping.”

“Work beckons,” I laughed, “speaking of the devil, I’mma go and sort files. Love ya, but leave ya.”

“Love you more,” he challenged, adoration oozing from his every word.

“Bye, Alex,” I crooned, making a kissy noise before ending the call. Just as I turned to open the first folder, Bobbi pulled up on his spinny-chair, leaning against the desk. With a brow raised and her lips curling into a smirk, it was more than apparent which topic we’d be discussing today.

“Alex, huh? That’s a pretty big change,” she hummed, resting her elbow against the wood. I half-shrugged, filtering through the files.

“It happened this morning, actually. Two am, this morning.” I assured, stifling the yawn. I was about to fall asleep at any given second.

“That explains the two hours of sleep,” she nodded, smirking. “Decent stuff.”

With that she rolled away, literally, and I returned to my work. Within a few hours I was refilling the final folder and returning to the office manager for further instructions. Apparently we had a last minute photoshoot gig at the second building, so I was chosen for the part. 

The photoshoot itself was for some hot-shot band who were apparently rising in fame by the second. We spent an hour or so running through some different styles of pictures before actually getting to the photoshoot. Complacent with the final results, we called it a day. By this point it was coming up to four, meaning it would be around seven for Alex. 

“Hey,” he answered smugly; I could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

“What you doing?” I hummed, dropping my bag on the sofa as I bee-lined for the kitchen. It had been precisely three hours since my last coffee and I was yearning for more. 

“I’m just finishing up at the studio. The guys and I are gonna go and get dinner from Bennie’s,” he explained, the sounds of him saying goodbye to whoever else they were with in the background. “What are you doing at,” he stopped for a second, the muffled shuffling replacing his voice, “four in the afternoon?”

“You’re getting better at this,” I joked impishly, “I’m thinking of meeting up with Bobbi and Sarah from work. They’re getting drinks to welcome the weekend.”

“Don’t call me at two am when you’re hammered,” he replied, feigning severity. 

“Revenge is best served cold, Alex, you know this.”

We ended the call soon after that, leading to me agreeing to join the girls for drinks. It was weird how my life hadn’t really altered, having Alex back in my life and all. He carried on with his mundane every-day tasks, and I carried on with mine. I guess I expected to miss him more than I was. The last month confirmed to me how much time we already spent apart with Alex touring all the time. Anyway, I digress. The club was great; the music was punk; my friends were constantly feeding me alcohol. It was a genuinely great night overall. I stayed on the dance floor for at least three hours, only leaving when the DJ announced Clumsy. You see, Clumsy was the next song on the list. That was tomorrow’s song. 

I slipped past the crowd, finding myself outside, phone in hand as I dialled Alex. The call went to voicemail, which I assumed was due to the three hour time distance. It was, ironically, two am in Baltimore. I left him a sappy text about him not answering the phone, before pulling up Spotify. I skipped Pretty Venom, pushing the lyrics to the back of my mind as I found myself staring at Clumsy. One hour early isn’t that huge, right? Plus, I always did like Nothing Personal best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second chapter in less than fifteen hours? I'm on a roll.


	3. Clumsy

As much as I loved getting drinks with my friends, I always seemed to stumble off and find myself doing something reckless. This then led to me waking up in the weirdest of ways.

This morning I woke up at my desk, an email confirmation of payment open on the desktop. I frowned sleepily, scouring my bank for the item I had bought in my intoxicated ordeal. I snatched my phone from the desk beside me, calling Alex once I found the mystery item.

“Hey cutie,” he crooned, a certain chipper to his tone. “How’s the hangover?”

“Go away,” I groaned, resting my head on my desk, “you’ll never guess what I bought.”

“A plane ticket to come and visit your sex god boyfriend?” He questioned impishly, laughing at his comment. I raised a brow, sitting back up.

“I told you didn’t I?” 

He snorted, “more than told me. You ranted for an hour about how much you miss me, then you bought a plane ticket.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?” I frowned, confirming the two hundred dollars of wasted money. 

“Why would I do that? I want to see you just as much as you wanted to see me last night,” he affirmed. His point was pretty sound. I seemed to miss him more now that we were dating again than I did when we weren’t. I guess it’s because I was doing everything I could to erase him from my memory less than a week ago.

“I can’t come to Baltimore, Alex,” I proclaimed, hoping to set the table straight before he got his hopes up. “I have work.”

“Not even for Easter?” He asked optimistically.

“The Easter that’s in seven days?” I questioned, furrowing my brow. Alex knew me better than this. I wasn’t about to drop everything for an impromptu vacay.

I pushed myself up from the desk, trudging into the kitchen with the soul purpose of finding aspirin and water. Alex sighed, unsure of what to say next. 

“Come on, Alex,” I added, frowning, “you know me.”

“I guess I do,” he countered bitterly, “I have to meet Jack, I’ll see you later.” 

He ended the call quickly, leaving me in my apartment kitchen alone. For the first time since I arrived in LA, I actually felt alone. It was weird. 

“Hey Google,” I called, waiting for the small device to light up, “play Clumsy by All Time Low.”

The song kicked off and I vaguely recognized it from last night. The tune itself was quite catchy, vividly reminding me of Nothing Personal. Fun fact, Alex and I actually met at their first Nothing Personal concert. It was in Baltimore and I was there with some friends they knew from school. I didn’t know them, seen as though I attended a private school on the other side of the city, but we all hit it off pretty well. We even went out for drinks together. He invited me to join them on the tour as their photographer that weekend. It was the first time in my life I’d been spontaneous, and I had Alex to thank for that. 

That’s when I changed my mind. I restarted the song before grabbing my suitcase from the cupboard beside the hallway, rushing into my bedroom. Excitement coursed through my veins as I threw outfits into the case. As eager as I already was, I was getting more excited by the second. I tried to call Alex, but it went straight to voicemail. Instead, I decided to keep it a surprise. I changed my flight time before texting my boss to let her know I’d be taking a holiday next week. I was on my way to the airport within the hour. 

With the flight taking a little over eight hours, I had prepared myself by downloading a ton of audiobooks, and even Clumsy to play on a loop, just in case. I still had four songs to go on Alex’s list, but I had promised to listen to them on their designated days. Getaway Green was next.

Having slept in already that morning, the entire day was gone before the time we landed in Baltimore. The sun was already setting by the time I found a taxi. I tried calling Alex in the cab, but at no prevail. He had either taken to ignoring me for the rest of the day, or he was busy with the band. I hoped for the second option, so I stopped at Rian’s studio.

I handed the driver my change, thanking him for the ride before making my way down Rian’s drive. I recognised his car, and Jack’s, but the last car at the very end was unfamiliar. Trudging over to the door, I knocked loudly. Jack, of all people, answered, staring back at me with that dumbfounded expression of his. I snorted, throwing my arms around his shoulders. He hugged me back, still phased by my presence.

“What are you doing here?” He gasped, opening the door a little wider so I could fit through. I slid past, finding myself in the small walkway that led to the recording booth.

“I’m not sure, actually,” I answered honestly, following him through the building. My previous excitement was beginning to die down, and I was beginning to question whether my presence was going to be welcome.

“Look who I found,” Jack laughed, jumping over the back of the sofa, landing beside Alex as they all turned to face me. Alex glanced over at me, his mouth widening at my presence.

“Hey,” I smirked, waving at him impishly. He took his movements slowly, placing his guitar on the stand before making his way to me. “You good, Gaskarth?”

“You said you weren’t coming,” he replied, taking my hand in his own as he inspected my touch.

“And you didn’t answer your phone,” I countered, to which his gaze returned to me.

“Did you like the song?”

“I loved it.”

With that his lips moved to mine and for the first time in weeks, it felt like I was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I definitely jinxed that one. Twenty days later?


End file.
